


Metaphysical Gravity

by colazitron



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis make out because the bottle dared them to. And then they sort of don't stop and it takes them a while to make sense of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metaphysical Gravity

**Metaphysical Gravity**

Harry’s not sure how many drinks he’s had, but he’s going to blame them for his exuberant giggles anyway. It’s just that he’s spun that stupid bottle three times now and it insists on landing on Harry himself every single time. And obviously he can’t make out with himself.

“If there were two Harrys though, they’d totally get it on with each other,” Louis remarks, a teasing grin tugging at his lips and somehow Harry finds that image endlessly amusing and actually tumbles backwards, falling onto his back, still laughing. That in turn cracks up the rest of the crew and for a good minute no one cares about the bottle and the weird Spin the Bottle/Truth or Dare hybrid they’re playing right now and just enjoys the atmosphere. They don’t know each other that well yet, but alcohol and a little embarrassment (and kissing) always helps to form friendships. Rebecca and Aiden are leaning into Matt from a side each and Katie and Cher are giggling into each other’s shoulders. Zayn and Niall are thumping Liam on the back, who apparently managed to somehow choke laughing. _Probably not used to it_ , Louis would say with a wink and the thought makes Harry break into a new salve of giggles.

“Alright, alright!” Treyc brings them back to the game eventually. “Can someone spin the bottle for Harry, since apparently he’s incapable?”

Harry gets himself upright again – woah, dizzy – and shoots her a mock-glare but lets Aiden reach for the bottle and spin it for him. This time, when it stops, it’s pointing at Louis, who’s sitting next to Rebecca at the moment. Belle Amie are cheering and cat calling already – probably because they’ve all lip-locked by this point and none of the boys have bothered hiding their approval – even though Harry could technically still chicken out and choose “truth” instead. (Their game works like this: spin the bottle and kiss whoever it points at or answer any three questions truthfully. Yeah, Harry’s not sure why either.) He glances at Louis quickly, who winks at him exaggeratedly and crooks his finger in his direction to make Harry come over. Okay, then. If Louis’ okay with this, Harry’s okay with this.

His heart is thumping in his chest though and he spares the girls an eye-roll when they break into even louder cheers the moment he gets on his knees to crawl over to where Louis is. Niall lets out a nervous laugh and Harry can see Liam patting his back. Harry shoots the two of them a comforting smile. Or at least he hopes it comes across as comforting. Yeah, Harry’s never kissed a guy before but it can’t really be that different and he’s 99% sure that this is not going to ruin Louis and his chemistry or friendship or whatever. The band’s safe, he’s certain.

When he’s close enough to Louis that he only has to lean a couple of inches forward, he takes the time to study his face for a moment and notices that the tips of his ears are a little red. Somehow, knowing that Louis is at least a little nervous about this too makes it a lot easier.

“Hi,” he smiles, dropping his voice a little. Louis rolls his eyes.

“No need to sweet-talk, Curly. Just kiss me.”

So Harry does. He leans forward, feels his weight shift onto his hands and closes his eyes when his nose bumps into Louis’ cheek and their lips align. Esther and Geneva are laughing somewhere behind him and Cher and Katie have joined in the whooping and cat-calling. There’s a lot of applause and Harry just… if he’s doing this, he might as well do this. So he opens his lips a little and sucks Louis’ upper lip in between them. Louis huffs a surprised breath through his nose, but doesn’t break away. On the contrary; he pushes his tongue into Harry’s lower lip and latches onto it with his teeth as soon as Harry lets him, tugging on it a little. Harry’s lips twitch like they want to smile and he blinks his eyes open for a second and finds Louis staring back at him. A sort of understanding passes between them and Harry barely has time to think “Oh, it’s so on” before his eyes fall shut again and Louis pushes his tongue into his mouth. Harry wastes no time welcoming it there with his own, opening his mouth wider and pushing against Louis. There’s a bit of stubble growing around Louis’ mouth and it feels rough against the sensitive skin of his lips. The kiss turns messy and sloppy fast and Harry can’t help the small grin when he feels his lower cheeks and upper lip and parts of his chin grow wet from Louis’ mouth. He’s given up on technique by now and instead somehow finds himself deliberately messing up whatever it is Louis’ trying to do. Louis catches on, of course, and Harry can feel his smile pressed against his face before Louis reaches up and grabs a fist full of Harry’s curls, startling something that sounds suspiciously like an aborted groan out of him (What? He has a thing for people touching his hair, okay?) and using the hold he has on his head to pull him to where he wants him. The way Louis’ short fingernails scrape over his skull makes shivers run down his spine and he suddenly realizes that the applause has died down.

Harry pulls back and Louis doesn’t stop him, but also doesn’t flinch or anything. Instead, he ruffles Harry’s hair like he always does and Harry leans back, laughing, Louis’ hand falling from his head. A cursory glance around the room shows that there are quite a few raised eyebrows, but Harry can easily spot a couple of blushing cheeks too.

“What? Too hot a show for you?” he teases and crawls back to his place. The laughter comes easily and comfortably at that. Harry lets his gaze drift over to Louis, whose eyes twinkle at him with a new kind of amusement and Harry’s pretty sure that the way Louis licks his lips means what he thinks it means.

 

It sort of becomes a thing after that. Well, not really a thing. It doesn’t happen often enough to be a thing, but it sort of does happen whenever they’re drunk so that makes it a thing, doesn’t it? Harry hadn’t planned on that happening; he hadn’t even seen it coming. But the next time they’re celebrating – a birthday this time – Harry and Louis end up piled against each other in a relatively quiet corner away from the party (Harry’s not sure how that happened either) and Louis stares at Harry’s mouth for a bit. It makes Harry self-conscious and it also makes him other things he doesn’t really want to look at too closely. But then Louis sighs and closes his eyes, putting his head on Harry’s shoulder like he’s too exhausted to hold it up any longer.

“You’re a really good kisser. I could go for a good snog right about now,” he mumbles into the fabric of Harry’s hoodie and Harry would love to think he’d misheard that but somehow he knows he hasn’t. Instead he nods.

“Agreed,” he says, which is supposed to mean “you’re a really good kisser too and my lips are totally available” but Harry realizes may also be understood as “fuck yeah, I know I’m awesome”. Harry has no problems with self-esteem usually, but that’s … no.

“I mean, you’re a great kisser too and… well…” He can’t quite bring himself to say it, but he doesn’t have to. Louis’s already giggling and sitting back up, stabilizing himself with a hand on the floor. Harry thinks that maybe they shouldn’t do this when they’re both tired and loopy and dizzy from alcohol. But then Louis licks his lips and they’re pink and shiny and Harry finds it’s his turn to stare.

“Are you propositioning me?” Louis grins. Harry’s eyes flit back up to look into Louis’.

“I think you propositioned me first,” he says.

“Yeah, but that was so vague, I have plausible deniability.” Louis always has an exit strategy, Harry knows that. He starts to wish Louis knew he didn’t ever need one with Harry though, because Harry cannot think of anything Louis could tell him that would make him want to push Louis away. So he rolls his eyes.

“Are you going to kiss me or blabber on?” he asks.

Louis visibly hesitates for a moment and Harry can practically watch him bite back his retort before he leans forward and seals their mouths together. Harry feels almost a little proud that Louis would rather kiss him than banter. Louis loves banter. He loves having the last word and he’s witty enough to easily get it. Apparently he loves kissing Harry more. At least when he’s drunk. At least right now.

One of Louis’ hands finds its way into Harry’s hair naturally, like that’s where it belongs. Louis’ hands spend so much time there though, Harry vaguely muses, it must feel a little like that. It certainly does to him. This time it’s Louis who’s on his knees and Harry suddenly feels a little smaller, until Louis huffs a breath and crawls forward, hovering over Harry for a moment. So Harry takes the decision from him, gripping Louis’ hips and pulling him down to sit on his lap. Louis tastes like beer and a little like sugar in the corners of his mouth from those sickeningly green things Cher had pushed into their hands just before they’d found themselves some privacy.

Harry would wonder if some part of himself had somehow seen this coming, or wished for it at least, and that’s how they found themselves away from the others, if he weren’t busy sucking on Louis’ tongue and tracing aborted circles into the skin of his hips, where his t-shirt is riding up and his trousers are riding low. Louis’ second hand has found the back of Harry’s skull and he’s using it to manoeuvre Harry every which way he wants him. Harry finds he likes the weight of Louis on his lap and the weight of his arms on his shoulders. He likes the weight of his tongue against his and the weight of his breath in his ears. He can’t help opening his eyes to check if this is really, really happening (he knows that’s sort of pathetic, yeah) and stares directly into Louis’ blue ones. They kiss open-eyed for a moment and Harry feels his heart rate speed up and warmth settle on his cheeks and race down his spine. Just when it’s almost unbearable, Louis closes his eyes again, and Harry gives a little mewl as his eyes drop shut too and he feels Louis tug at his lips with his teeth again.

It happens again after their vaguely Christmas-y dinner (they’re not really drunk then) and when they make it to the finals (they’re not at all drunk then, unless endorphins count and Harry thinks there were so many of them, they probably do) and when they lose, because that’s what coming third feels like (they’re pretty smashed that time). And then suddenly they’re going home and Harry realizes that he completely forgot that from now on, Louis and he would sort of have to make an effort to see each other. There would be no more waking up in the same room every day. Instead there were going to be phone calls (or skype, Harry hopes). That sort of sucks.

So half an hour before Gemma said she was going to pick him up, he grabs Louis and pulls him into one of the empty rooms.

“You alright?” Louis immediately asks, eyeing him speculatively and Harry has to smile.

“Yeah, ‘course. I’m good. Just…” he breaks off and scratches his head. There really is no way he can say this without sounding like a total sap, so he might as well just be direct and at least avoid misunderstandings.

“I won’t see you every day anymore and that’s sort of… weird. And I’m going to miss the other lads as well, I’m just going to miss you more,” he says and even manages not to look down at the floor whilst doing it. Louis doesn’t even make a joke out of it but instead gives Harry a soft smile like he has been waiting for him to say something like this.

“I’m gonna miss you a lot too, Curly,” he says and runs a hand through Harry’s hair, scratching at the back of his neck a little.

“But we’re going to skype every day or at least almost every day. And I’m going to send you ridiculously many text updates about what’s happening where I am and I expect you to do the same. We’ll get by. And after the holidays you can come visit. Or I can stay with you. We’ll be back to normal in no time,” Louis promises and Harry spares a moment to marvel at the fact that what they’ve had until now has so easily become their ‘normal’ and going home feels almost stranger.

“What if I want a hug, though,” Harry decides to pout and Louis laughs at him affectionately. But then he takes his hand back from where it had rested on Harry’s shoulder, twirling curls around his fingers and he takes off his cardigan before pulling at the hem of Harry’s hoodie. Harry’s a bit bewildered, but he goes along with it, pulling the sweatshirt over his head. Louis takes it from him and pushes his cardigan into Harry’s hands instead.

“I’m afraid that’ll have to do for now,” he smiles and Harry feels ridiculous for three endless seconds before breaking out into a smile and reaching out to tug Louis’ head close for a kiss. Later he’ll realize that they’d never kissed just because before and Harry hadn’t actually known if it was okay for him to do that. Right now though he only knows he sort of wants to and it feels like the right thing to do. Anyway, Louis kisses back and there are no shenanigans and no extravaganzas this time. Just lips and tongues and a hint of teeth and Harry feels incredibly cherished for a few breathless moments. Then Liam’s voice calls for them because Gemma’s early.

They break apart and Louis winks at him before pulling on Harry’s sweatshirt and looping an arm around his shoulders, leading him out of the room and yelling back that they’ll be there in a second. They show Gemma around together before loading Harry’s bags into the trunk and backseat of her tiny car and hugging goodbye feels less like the end of the world than Harry had maybe feared.

 

On tour the kissing goes somewhat out of control. During the holidays and their brief time in America it had spread from being that thing they did when drunk or at least very emotionally unstable to that thing they did whenever. But at least until the tour it was only kissing. Sure, there are now good morning kisses, when Louis tumbles sleepily into the kitchen and pecks Harry on the hair or the cheek or the lips and there were surprise smooches, when Harry cuddle-attacked Louis and just decided to plant one on him. And while that was certainly strange it wasn’t really all that strange. They were both really affectionate and extremely comfortable with each other. And in front of the others they kept it to exaggerated pecks through mutual if unspoken agreement.

When it’s just the two of them, though… well, suffice to say things sometimes get a little heated. But Harry really doesn’t think he can be blamed for that. After all, it is a perfectly normal, biological reaction to the close proximity of another warm body. Not just proximity, mind you. With Louis sat astride his lap or spread out all over him or under him, and his tongue in his mouth, his hands in his hair… what is Harry’s body supposed to think if not “all systems go”? So, yeah, sometimes one of them shifts and then there are split seconds of awkward stiltedness where they aren’t exactly sure what to do with themselves or each other before one of them inadvertently licks his lips or flexes his fingers and they go back to kissing each other breathless.

It’s on tour that they overcome that awkwardness. Louis’s staying over because until about half an hour ago they had been watching a movie on one of those rare nights where they can afford to stay up a bit and actually have the energy to do so too. But then there was tickling and play-fighting and that seamlessly segued into making out and Louis’s spread out underneath Harry, one of each of their hands clasped together. Harry’s holding himself up with the other and Louis’s idly playing with the hem of Harry’s t-shirt with his free one. And then Harry sucks Louis’ tongue into his mouth and Louis makes this happy little sigh and shifts just a bit and Harry can feel the outline of Louis’ dick brush against his thigh for just a moment and he’s hard himself and he doesn’t think about it, he just grinds down into his friend.

Louis gasps. It’s half surprise and half ohgodyespleasemore. Harry looks down at his face, the flushed cheeks and the eyelashes fanning out over impossibly perfect cheekbones and decides he likes the latter half better and does it again. This time Louis’ eyes fly open and he whispers,

“Harry.”

It sounds a bit like he’s a little scared and like he thinks that Harry has all the answers to this and Harry suddenly becomes aware that this is something they will eventually need answers to and he’s immediately overwhelmed with a feeling of inadequacy. Then Louis makes another soft sound and all that goes out the window and Harry just presses down again, Louis clutches at Harry’s hip and pulls and, yeah, okay, at least they’re on the same page about this. Harry stares down into Louis’ eyes for what feels like a little eternity because he can’t exactly believe that this is happening, but then Louis raises a leg and winds it around Harry’s back, pushing his heel into his arse and pulling him in closer like that and Harry stops thinking. Instead he buries his face in the space between Louis’ head and neck and shoulder and the sheets and concentrates on listening to the hitches in Louis’ breathing when he bears down into him in a certain way. It might be an embarrassingly short time or it might be impressively long, Harry doesn’t particularly care, but at some point Louis tenses up, gives a soft little “ah” and Harry knows that he just came and it’s that which sends him over edge, spilling into his own boxers.

They spend a couple of moments in silence, listening to each other breathe, before laughter bubbles out of Harry and Louis promptly joins in. They end up even more out of breath, but definitely relaxed and Harry climbs out of bed, pulling two random boxer shorts out of his suitcase and throwing one at Louis. He doesn’t look at Louis while he changes, but only because he’s busy getting into clean underwear himself. They go to sleep after that, whispering stories to each other for a while and absurdly Harry feels about six years old. And when they wake up the next morning and Louis’ arm is pressed up against Harry’s side, his hand almost holding on to the fabric of his shirt, it’s not at all awkward, it’s just what sometimes happens when you sleep next to someone.

From then on getting each other off is fair game. It usually happens after shows, when they’re still high on the rush and have been laughing and talking nonsense with the others in the car ride back to the hotel. It doesn’t really do anything to get rid of the excess energy the adrenaline keeps pumping through their veins and so they pile into one or the other hotel room, shoving the door shut behind them, still giggling, and each other down onto the bed. They’re equally shameless about this and progress to nakedness and hand jobs easily enough.

Sometimes though when they’re not immediately whisked off to do something after their matinee shows and the other three look at them with slightly tired eyes that beg them to be left out of the shenanigans, they sneak off together and find an isolated corner of the venue, pushing each other up against walls and other surfaces and kissing lazily to calm down. They realize this is probably stupid, but they remain undetected for long enough to get comfortable with the idea that they’re just that good. It’s still not a surprise when the gasp and “Oh gosh, I’m sorry” followed by the door being shut hastily eventually comes. They break apart, Louis glancing at the door uselessly before looking back to Harry, his eyes a little unsure.

“Liam?” he asks. Harry nods.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. That was Liam.” At least Liam is guaranteed not to tell. They debate talking to him about it, but there’s really not much to say except for “so, we snog, sometimes” and Liam’s pretty sure to have gotten that picture.

But then it happens again. (Harry’s in Louis’ lap on a couch that time.) And again. (Louis’s pulling at Harry’s belt when Liam walks in. Harry wouldn’t have let him go further anyway but that sure was a moodkiller.) By the fourth time, Liam’s way more annoyed than anything else. Harry’s sitting on a table, Louis between his legs, one of his hands pulling up the back of Louis’ shirt and Louis is biting softly at his neck, so Harry’s looking over his shoulder directly at Liam, when he opens the door and curses a heartfelt “God damnit”.

“It’s like you’re trying to get caught!” he accuses and they separate guiltily, Louis pulling down his shirt and smoothing his hair, while Harry wipes saliva off his neck.

“I promise we’re not. You just seem eerily talented at bumping into us,” Harry says, trying to put on his best comforting, non-threatening, sweet, you-love-me-really smile. Judging from Liam’s face he’s only mildly successful.

“So no one else knows of this yet?” Liam makes sure. Louis and Harry both shake their heads.

“No.”

“You’re gonna tell Niall and Zayn soon though, right?”

Louis shoots Harry a confused look, who shrugs a shoulder slightly before turning to Liam.

“Tell them?” he asks.

“Yeah, about you… being together. You know none of us have a problem with that, right?” Liam seems a weird mixture between concerned and offended. Harry’s too busy being confused to fully appreciate the faces Liam is pulling at the moment though. Louis takes half a step closer to him, resting his hip next to where Harry’s hand is gripping the edge of the table. Harry subconsciously leans closer. They don’t really have to present a united front against Liam or anything stupid like that, but it somehow feels better to be in this together anyway.

“Liam, we’re not together,” Louis finally says. Liam snorts and shakes his head, exactly like he does half the time when Louis says anything. To be fair, Louis says a lot of really ridiculous things throughout the day.

“Right. And Zayn and Rebecca are absolutely just friends,” he grins. Harry does laugh at that.

“Really, though, Liam, we’re not dating. We just… snog.” Harry feels a blush creep over his cheeks and he doesn’t look over to Louis to see if he’s turning red as well. Saying it out loud like that does make it sound slightly ridiculous. Somehow it made perfect sense to Harry that this was just a bit of fun between mates – albeit unusual fun – as long as it was just the two of them who knew about it. Now that it’s out in the open like that, bared for inspection, he suddenly feels protective and vulnerable. This is theirs and no one else gets to prod at it and analyze and classify it.

Liam stares at them for a moment. He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again. Harry raises an eyebrow. If he wants to say something, he should just come out with it. Sooner or later he’s going to anyway, might as well skip all the awkwardness before then. Liam apparently gets the silent message. He sighs heavily and shifts his weight onto his other foot.

“You mean all the cuddling and the whispering to each other and the staring, that’s all nothing?”

“We’re best mates,” Louis says and Harry can tell that he doesn’t like feeling like has to defend them either.

“Yeah, I get that, but… Louis, you order Harry’s dessert for him and Harry you ask about pulp in orange juice because Louis – for some strange reason – doesn’t like it.”

“It’s gross,” Louis mumbles quietly and Harry can’t help but grin at him.

“You’re always in each other’s space and, okay, we all do that, but not like you two. Zayn hates it when people get too close when he’s tired, Niall doesn’t like it when he’s just showered, I don’t like it when I’m moody but the two of you… there’s no rule. You’re always inside each other’s bubble, even in situations where you’d bite anyone else’s head off who came within 20 feet of you.”

Harry shoots him a look to which Liam rolls his eyes.

“I’m exaggerating to get my point across.”

“Your point being?” Louis asks. Liam sighs like they’re being purposely difficult.

“I find you snogging all the time on top of all that and more, and you still expect me to believe you’re not completely in love?” Liam smiles at them like he’s humouring them and expects them to break out into laughter and confess their undying love any moment now. Instead Harry feels his stomach twist itself into a couple of Gordian knots and he can feel Louis’ muscles all freeze up at once. Liam must notice it too, because his expression shifts into something vaguely concerned and confused.

“We’re...” Harry tries to explain and he plans to finish that sentence with “not in love”, but somehow finds bile rising up his throat instead.

“We’re just...” Louis tries, equally unsuccessfully, and Harry guesses that “just fooling around” must have left as unpleasant a taste in Louis’ mouth as “not in love” did in Harry’s. That’s when his neck starts to prickle and he goes hot all the way down his spine and he grips the edge of the table tighter because this feels like nausea and the one time he actually fainted when he was ten.

Liam shifts again, but this time he looks nervous and uncomfortable.

“Sorry, lads, I thought... never mind. Sorry,” he says and fumbles with the door before quickly shuffling out of the room and closing the door silently behind himself. Harry feels his heart rate pick up a bit and for a few terrifying moments he can’t bring himself to face Louis. Like if he looks over at him now, the world will end. But then he does look over and the world doesn’t end and he exhales like a relieved sigh and Louis looks back and the smile blooms on his face naturally and Harry thinks, irrationally, “we’re okay” and smiles back.

“We should probably head back,” Louis suggests, his voice a little more gentle than usual, like he’s maybe not sure the world’s not gonna end any moment yet. Harry nods and jumps down from the table, wiping his hands on his pant legs, because they’ve gone clammy throughout this entire ordeal.

“And find a better hiding spot next time so we don’t embarrass poor Liam any further,” he adds with a grin and Louis laughs. Harry goes to shove his hands into his hoodie pocket and with a jolt notices that he’s wearing one of Louis’ cardigans. The one he’d given him before Christmas actually, that Harry almost considers his by now and, oh, maybe the world’s not entirely back to where it’s supposed to be yet.

 

Harry expects the jolts low in his stomach to go away, but they don’t. Stupid Liam and his stupid perceptiveness and his stupid voicing of what he’s seen. Now every time Louis sits next to him he thinks “is this what Liam meant?” and every time Louis automatically hands him the red and purple Skittles he thinks “is it normal that he knows that?”. He also wonders if Louis wonders about those things now that Liam’s mentioned them. It’s driving him crazy. Not crazy enough that he loses (much) sleep over it, not crazy enough that he messes up performances, but if he safely could, he’d blame his bout of sickness on it.

They very obviously refrain from making out and Harry doesn’t even feel like it’s that big of a deal. Mostly, he realizes, because he’s absolutely certain that they’ll get back to it as soon as he’s well again and that’s what starts scaring him. Because he also remembers looking down at Louis and thinking he was going to need answers at some point and maybe, just maybe, now is that point. And even more maybe Liam has already spelled the answer out.

Louis spends most of his free time with Harry during his illness, chatting to him, filling in Harry’s part of the conversation (only that makes him laugh and he’s not supposed to do that, so Louis stops), watching movies, battling his Pokémon and even reading to him when they can’t think of anything else to do. Mostly Louis reads out his twitter feed and does voices and Harry tries his best not to laugh.

After the first show Harry’s back to doing all his vocals in (plus a few more, because, ironically, the others are now sicker than he is), Louis smiles at him softly and waits until they’re back at the hotel to pull him into his rooms and crowd him up against the door. He presses a soft kiss to his lips and they kiss languidly for a few moments before their smiles break them apart.

“You were amazing tonight,” Harry says, because he loves watching Louis grow more confident with every show they’re doing.

“I was going to say that,” Louis complains and swats Harry’s upper arm.

“Too slow, old man,” Harry teased and ducks out between Louis’ arms while he’s busy faking affront.

“You take that back, you toddler,” Louis grins, turning round to face him. Harry lets the grin pull his mouth apart and shakes his head, laughter escaping him as Louis lunges at him and he narrowly escapes with a quick jump to the side. Sadly, they’ve done this so much that Louis by now knows all his evasive manoeuvres. Only a few steps later, Louis wraps a strong arm around his waist from behind and pulls him down onto the bed, pushing his arms into the mattress and sitting astride his legs, effectively pinning him.

“I win,” Louis declares, not even out of breath but grinning widely, while Harry tries to calm his heart and the squirming in his belly from the feel of Louis’ arm around it seconds ago.

“Okay,” he gives in and for a very short moment thinks that will make Louis let him up. What it does is make Louis scowl at him suspiciously. Harry never gives in that easily. Louis slowly lets go of Harry’s arm and sits up, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Spill, Styles,” he demands. Harry bites his lip and tries to disregard that the overhead lamp is almost exactly behind Louis and his hair looks ridiculously soft and angelic lit from the back like that. He swallows and decides if the world’s going to end, he might as well help it along.

“Do you ever think maybe Liam was right?” he asks and he can tell from the way that Louis’ features close up that he doesn’t have to specify. He hates that Louis thinks he has to hide from him though.

“Do you?” Louis asks back. It’s unfair that Harry has to be the brave one but it’s also how they work. Harry’s brave and takes the first step and Louis’s persistent and makes sure they take all the ones after that as well.

“Lately, I... yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding in his chest and he wishes he knew what he looked like to Louis right now. He wonders if he’s as hard to read as Louis is to Harry. For a couple of moments it’s like Louis’s some stranger that he’s never met before.

“Me too,” he says then and the familiarity comes back slowly in the way that Louis blinks like he does when he’s unsure and the way he sucks his lip into his mouth just a little when he thinks he’s not allowed to smile. Harry doesn’t stop his own smile, but he can feel the corners of his mouth twitch with the same kind of uncertainty he thinks Louis’s feeling.

“Does that mean I get to call you my boyfriend?” he asks and feels only slightly ridiculous.

“Yeah. I had my gay freak-out a couple weeks ago,” Louis promises with a smile that’s a lot less shaky and startles a laugh out of Harry. That finally seems to do the trick and the uneasiness leaves Louis’ features and he’s all Louis again and Harry feels a click and then the world is where it’s supposed to be again. He pushes himself up on his hands and sucks Louis’ lower lip into his mouth in a slow and teasing kiss. Louis pulls away with a sigh.

“We’re going to have to thank Liam, aren’t we?”

Harry snickers.

“Suppose so. Can that wait though?” he asks, lying back down and trailing a finger over the skin above the waist band of Louis’ trousers.

“Forever for all I care,” Louis grins and leans down to kiss the laughter off Harry’s lips.

The next day they’re going to herd their three band mates and best friends into an empty room and shuffle on their feet a little. Harry’s going to grab Louis’ hand and look him in the eyes briefly before addressing the others. “Louis and I are together,” he’s going to say and Zayn is going to roll his eyes at them like “duh, of course you are”. Niall will smile sweetly and congratulate them, but he’ll look over to Liam, a little bewildered. Liam will not quite be sure whether they’ve played the most time-consuming prank on him or have really just figured this out, but he’ll smile at them anyway because they’re ridiculous and in love and stupidly perfect for each other and how could anyone not smile at that? Exactly.

**The End**


End file.
